Regrets, I've Had a Few
by siouxkhan1958
Summary: A short scene between the judge and Mark.


"Regrets, I've Had A Few"

by MKH26

Mark knew the minute his words left his mouth he was in trouble. Big trouble. He couldn't take them back. And Hardcase didn't let him down. The coldest, hardest, meanest look Mark ever saw came over the judge's face like a shadow, and before he knew it, Mark's left cheek was on the receiving end of the hardest slap he'd felt since he was five.

Stumbling back a few steps, he raised his hand to the burning spot on his face - he was speechless. The judge had never looked so angry with him. He wondered if he'd had as surprised a look on his face as the judge did.

Feeling ashamed and disappointed in himself, tears beginning to well in his eyes, he whirled and ran out the door, not bothering to close it behind him as he ran blindly for the safety of the gatehouse where he climbed the stairs two at a time and threw himself on to his bed, letting the tears flow. His face was burning as he could still feel the judge's harsh slap... he knew he must've looked to the ordinary man on the street like an overgrown child, crying into his pillow. But at this point, he really didn't much care what anyone would think of him. Only the judge. And he knew what Hardcase must've thought of him.

He felt terrible for saying what he did, about Hardcase's dead son. What the hell was he thinking, he wondered to himself between the tears that were now burning on his stinging cheeck. Was he crazy, jealous of a dead man and his relation to the man he'd come to consider not only a friend, but a father figure? How ELSE would he expect Hardcastle to react? Truth be told, he was damned lucky Hardcase didn't haul off and clock him a good one with a closed fist. His lights would be out, forget a measely sore cheek...

But the slap did come out of nowhere. In the time Mark was Hardcastle's charge, he'd never lifted a finger to him, although Mark gave him plenty of opportunities and reason to. Mark knew one day his smart mouth would get him into trouble... and apparently THIS was that day.

And there Mark lay in the dark, atop his bed, clutching his pillow as he cried, the only other sound his ticking clock on the nightstand. How could he face the judge after muttering those hurtful words? Words he didn't even know were in him. The judge was right, Mark did belong behind bars. Maybe that's where Hardcastle would throw his sorry ass the next time he saw him... he physically shuddered at the fleeting thought.

Mark didn't have time to consider it, as the next sound he heard was the latch turning in the gatehouse door. Hardcastle. Oh, shit. Here we go, he thought.

Mark tried desperately to wipe the trail of tears from his face with the backs of his hands, but his cheek was still quite sore, even a bit swollen. Great, now the old man would know he was a crybaby as well as a smart mouthed ass... he'd have to leave the grounds for sure now. What a disappointment he turned out to be... at this point, he probably made ol' JJ Beale look pretty good...

"Mark?", he heard a quiet, gravelly voice call from downstairs in the dark. Mark tried to be as still as possible - maybe the old coot would give up and go away - but Mark's hiccupping gave him away. Damn.

He could hear the creak of the steps as the judge made his way up to Mark's bedroom.

"Mark?", he asked again. "Can I come up?" Mark frowned, Hardcastle never asked permission, especially where Mark was involved.

"It's your house," Mark muttered curtly, quietly as he rolled onto his stomach. He really didn't want the judge to see his bloodshot eyes and snotty nose. He'd never life it down. Mark almost muttered "It's a free country," but clamped his mouth shut at the last minute. Sarcasm would get him nowhere fast with the judge tonight. He was in enough trouble as it was...

A large shadow loomed over him, even in the darkened room. Mark held his breath - or at least tried to, but as always whenever he cried, it always turned into a case of the hiccups, and this time it was no different. Damn, he thought again.

"Mark, you alright?" the judge asked quietly. At first, Mark didn't reply, he didn't feel like answering him. Let the old coot wait for an answer...

"'m fine." Mark muttered between hiccups. "Jus' peachy."

Still the smart mouth, Hardcastle sighed. Then again, that's what made Mark... Mark.

"Will you look at me?" he asked. Another beat. And another.

With a heavy sigh, Mark turned over in his bed and faced the judge, averting his eyes.

Hardcastle leaned over and snapped on the lamp on the nightstand next to Mark's bed so he could see his friends' face clearer.

The judge sat down at the edge of the bed as Mark stared down at the blanket, a frown on his face.

Hardcastle got a better look at the angry red welt on Mark's cheek. "I did that?" he thought sadly to himself.

Reaching out to touch the welt, Mark instinctively pulled back from the touch, flinching.

"I'm not gonna' hit you again, if that's what you're thinking..." the judge sighed, feeling terrible that his young friend was expecting yet another hard slap. "Just wanted to check you out."

Suddenly the judge stood up and began to make his way down the stairs he'd just climbed.

Mark sat up suddenly and called after him, "Judge?"

Hardcastle stopped short, turning around. "Not leaving, just going to wet a rag to put on that welt." he explained.

Mark was somewhat relieved. On one hand, he didn't really want to talk to the judge, not really. But he knew they had to talk things out. Confront the elephant in the room.

Within minutes, Mark heard the tap in the bathroom run, then the judge once again climbed the stairs.

Sitting on the edge of the bed again, Hardcastle gently set the cold, wet, folded washcloth gingerly on Mark's cheek.

"OW!" Mark hissed with the burning pain.

"It'll feel better soon." Hardcastle softly said. "Just hold that on for a while. Probably should put on some antiseptic, too..."

"Thanks." Mark muttered so quietly he could barely be heard. His hand brushed the judges' hand as he grabbed for the towel. Dare he look the judge in the eye?

Mark knew he had to apologize for his hurtful words, but apologizing came as hard for him as it did for the judge. They were truly one of a kind. The question was, who would come forward first with his apology?

Both began to speak at the same time.

"Judge..."

"Mark..."

Both men stared at each other for a moment, then awkwardly looked away.

The judge cleared his throat. "Ah, kiddo..." he began. But Mark waved him off with his free hand.

"No, Judge, was entirely my fault." Mark began, tears starting to well and burn in his eyes again. Crap, don't let the old man see you cry, he told himself. But it wasn't up to him... he could feel his face turning crimson again.

"I never should have said what I did about Tommy, I don't even know where those terrible words came from." he shook his head as his voice trembled.

The judge studied Mark closely as he continued to speak. Mark drew a long, wavering breath as he went on, lowering the wet rag from his cheek.

"I know I can't take them back, and I know no amount of apology will make up for it, I just hope you don't hate me. I can be packed up and out of your hair by the morning..." his voice drifted off as he stared at the floor, tears now rolling freely down his face.

Just when Mark thought the judge wouldn't answer him, the judge himself sighed, drawing a breath as he now spoke. "My turn..."

"HATE you?" he asked, frowning. "I could never hate you, kiddo. Just the opposite, I hope you know how much I love you. I know, I have a funny way of showing it..." he chuckled at the surprised look on Mark's face as Hardcastle made him return the rag to his cheek. "Leave that there..." he instructed.

Did he hear right?

The old coot said he LOVED him?

The judge went on. "I'm so sorry I slapped you, Mark." he leaned over to wipe tears away from Mark's eye's with his thumbs. "I never should have lifted a hand to you. But when you said those things about Tommy... I can't lie, it hurt. Hurt bad. But I think I know why you said those things. And you're not packing and leaving, you live here now. This is YOUR home."

Mark began to cry freely now, the damning words still fresh in his mind. "Guess I've just been... jealous of Tommy, having you for a dad for so many years, when I had no one." he finally admitted sheepishly. "You shoulda' clocked me for what I said about him, woulda' served me right."

Hardcastle chuckled lightly as Mark's bloodshot eyes lifted to meet the old man's. "You really don't hate me?" he asked timidly with a hiccup.

The judge smiled warmly and shook his head.

"I could never hate... my son." he finished, his voice barely audible.

And with that, Mark fell forward into Hardcastle's chest, sobbing. The judge, for his part, pulled Mark in close and wrapped his strong arms around his young friend protectively.

"I really am sorry, Judge. I love you, too." Mark sobbed, dropping the wet towel and grabbing the judge's shirt sleeves, tugging on them. "I promise I'll never hurt you like that ever again..."

"And I promise I'll never lift a hand to you again, kiddo." the judge whispered as he rubbed Mark's back. Mark was shaking with his sobs now, clinging on for dear life.

"I know how you've been treated your whole childhood, and I don't want our friendship to ever turn into another bad memory for you."

The judge continued to rub Mark's shaking back, then lifted his hand into Mark's sweat soaked curls.

"C'mon, kiddo. I think you need some sleep." he tried to lay Mark back onto the bed, but Mark wouldn't let go.

"No!" he clung to the judge's sleeves, nearly tearing them off his shirt.

"Okay, okay." the judge soothed, once again smoothing Mark's curls as he began to rock Mark back and forth. Mark, for his part, lay his head on the judge's shoulder and continued to cry. He'd had so much festering up inside over the years, and it was all finally coming to the surface.

The judge knew, on the outside Mark was a grown man, but deep down, he still hurt as much as when he was a young child, and felt as though no one cared and his pathetic life didn't matter.

But it did matter. It mattered to Hardcastle. From the minute he saw and observed McCormick in his courtroom for the first time, he'd known prison wasn't the place for this kid. Mark had real potential, he was different from the other cons he tried to save from a life of crime. Mark seemed to be willing to change before things got so out of hand that nothing or no one could save him. Yep, Hardcastle knew this kid was the real deal. And he'd grown to like him, trust him, hell, even love him.

"Don't ever leave me, Judge, please..." Mark's slurred voice came out of nowhere. So that's what was really bothering Mark, he didn't want to be alone again. He was afraid. Really afraid.

"I promise, Mark, I will do everything in my power to be around for you as long as you need me." Hardcastle swore.

With that, Mark seemed to melt into the judge's arms. The hands that gripped the judge's sleeves slowly loosened their grip, his breathing slowed, the sobbing stopped, although the hiccups continued.

"Mark?" Hardcastle whispered.

Silence.

The poor kid had literally cried himself to sleep. "Kiddo?" he asked again.

Mark's head was now listless on the judge's shoulder.

Carefully, Hardcastle laid a hand on the back of Mark's curls and gently laid his young friend back onto the bed, arranging the pillow behind his head. Mark's cheek was still red, the welt now prominent. The judge berated himself for causing it. Surely he could have ignored what Mark had to say about Tommy. It needn't have come to this. But what happened, happened. Nothing could be taken back now, not Mark's hurtful words, not the judge's stinging slap. But they could put it all in the past and face tomorrow together. The Lone Ranger and Tonto...

Hardcastle stood up from his spot on the bed and bending over to remove Mark's sneakers, pulled the covers up to Mark's neck, tenderly tucking Mark's arms under the blanket, squeezing Mark's hand. Mark was finally asleep, snoring softly as the judge reached down for the damp rag and switched the lamp off, throwing the room into total darkness, save for the moonlight that just happened fo fall across Mark's face from the window above his bed. WIth one last look at Mark's burning cheek, the judge brushed back the unruly curls from Mark's closed eyes.

"Sleep well, Tonto." he smiled warmly.

"We'll ride again tomorrow..."

The End

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